Nondescript
by Clariana
Summary: Solas and Dorian disagree over Lavellan's wellbeing, or do they? Snarky fluff.


**Nondescript**

"_Dorian: Ah, Solas. You startled me. You're always so... nondescript._

_Solas: Please speak up! I cannot hear you over your outfit!"_

In game dialogue, _Dragon Age Inquisition_

Solas was attempting to work out the colour scheme for the next part of his fresco. It was late and the rotunda in Skyhold that he was painting was mostly empty. He enjoyed the silence he found it assisted his concentration so he was somewhat taken aback when he heard the door leading to the throne room creak open.

Dorian appeared through said door somewhat the worse for wear, his robes were not entirely straight and his usually impeccably styled hair was slightly ruffled and mussed.

"Ah, Solas…" The other mage said. "I'm rather surprised to find you here."

Without removing his eyes from the mural Solas said "frescoes do not paint themselves, you know, Dorian."

"I'm sure they don't…" Dorian replied, "But since I have caught you on your own, there's something I was…"

Solas's eyes strayed to the other side of the room, to where Ellana lay blissfully curled up and asleep under a pile of blankets and furs on his couch, Dorian followed his gaze.

Solas had been more moved and thrilled than he could rightly explain to hear her exclamations and moans when he had bought her to climax during their fervent, passionate, intercourse a little under an hour ago. He was glad it hadn't occurred to Dorian to interrupt them then… Or was he?

He had hesitated for a considerable amount of time, perhaps even several seasons, before finally taking the decision to become what he was now. At first he found it, as he had expected, highly unpleasant, but that was simply because he had forgotten the exquisite pleasures inherent to a being of flesh and blood, and of all such pleasures, making love...

Dorian automatically dropped his voice, "Yes, about that Solas…" He almost hissed, "That's what I wanted to talk to about…"

Solas glanced at him and raised his eyebrows.

"She's my girl…"

Solas's eyebrows climbed even higher. "You mean the Inquisitor? But Dorian…."

"I shall rephrase that, shall I?" said Dorian. "If the circumstances had been any different, she would be _my_ girl. And I don't necessarily mean my lover. But in any event, she _is_ my girl and…"

"Dorian, you are not making any sense…."

"You know perfectly well what I'm attempting to say to you Solas… Don't be disingenuous, it doesn't suit you."

Solas shrugged. "If you say so, Dorian."

"Just let me finish what I was saying…"

"I wasn't aware I was interrupting, Dorian."

"Oh bloody hell… Why are you making this so difficult? No, don't answer that... Just let me finish." There was a pause while Dorian appeared to grasp the words. "Just… Don't hurt her, just try not to hurt her, alright? She's been through a lot and she doesn't deserve it. She's a good sort, are we clear?"

Solas turned around and looked at him square in the face for the first time. "It is not my intention to hurt her, quite the contrary, why would I?"

Dorian sighed theatrically and scuffed one booted foot against the tiled floor. "You yourself are not a bad person Solas, for an apostate elf, I mean, one who has wildly eccentric ideas about magic and all its appurtenances… No, you are not a bad person…"

"You cannot imagine how relieved I am to hear you say that, Dorian."

"And still with the snark. All right, I deserved that one." Again Dorian appeared to struggle, "But… There is just something about you, something a bit… _Off_. It takes one to know one, you know, and I have always been under the impression that you were, or are, something other than what you might appear to be."

Solas let his face switch to neutral. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Dorian… Once again."

"I may be pissed as a newt, Solas, but just then, just then, in your phrasing in your words in your expression…" Dorian waved a finger in Solas's face, "Or lack thereof, I have seen it. And there is this little voice in my head that is persistently telling me that all is not with you as it should be. You are _up_ to something."

"Little voices are often wrong, Dorian." Solas said calmly after a moment's silence, he let his gaze drift to the object Dorian was carrying in his left hand. "Especially when they come from inside a bottle."

"Touché Solas. How _very_ perceptive of you…" Dorian moved a step forward. Solas started and resisted the impulse to take a step back. Dorian placed his left hand lightly on Solas's shoulder. Solas could smell the alcohol on Dorian's breath. After a moment's hesitation Solas in turn raised his hand and lightly touched Dorian's fingers. Dorian opened his mouth to continue but Solas interrupted him.

"I know your intentions are honourable… And I am very grateful that the Inq… Ellana has such good friends, she both needs and deserves them."

Dorian righted himself and removed his hand. "Oh bugger you, you bloody… ELF!" he paused, "I am going to do some research in case you were just wondering… Which you probably weren't…" And he headed jerkily towards the winding staircase that led to the library.

"Good evening Dorian." Solas replied to his retreating back, "Bugger you, too. Don't spill any wine on the manuscripts." And then in a much lower voice mainly to himself he said, "And may your Maker bless you, whoever he may be."

He turned back to the empty wall once again allowing his mind to be filled with colours.

THE END


End file.
